


Hogmanay

by aslytherspuff



Series: The Wish Fulfillment Universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Coming Out, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogmanay, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Not Canon Compliant, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslytherspuff/pseuds/aslytherspuff
Summary: NEW YEAR'S EVE, DECEMBER 1994Ron's first kiss isn't who he wants or expects it to be, but he's okay with that.A one-shot extra scene set during The Goblet of Fire / chapter four of Wish Fulfillment.Can be read and understood as a stand alone one-shot without reading the main work (but the main work is awesome and you should read it).
Relationships: Dean Thomas/Ron Weasley
Series: The Wish Fulfillment Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587355
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117





	Hogmanay

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year to all my amazing readers.  
> I wanted to upload a new chapter but it just isn't ready, so have this "deleted scene" from chapter four as my New Year's gift to you all.

**FOURTH YEAR**

**31 DECEMBER 1994**

Instead of the normal Saturday night fare, Dumbledore had asked the elves to cook a traditional Hogmanay feast to impress their international guests. McGonagall was nearly beside herself with excitement, though some of the French students seemed considerably less convinced by the food on offer. After the cock-a-leekie soup starter, serving plates appeared piled high with traditional Scottish scran: mutton pies, colcannon, haggis, mashed potatoes and parsnips, and finnan haddie. Dessert was an offering of black buns, shortbread, or cranachan; Ron convinced Harry and Hermione to pick different things so that he could try all three.

Dumbledore had announced that any student in fourth year or above was welcome to remain in the Great Hall until midnight to see in the new year; the younger years could celebrate in their Common Rooms. According to Fred and George, there would be fireworks at midnight, though whether those were official or just a prank the twins had arranged was less clear. They were also adamant that Dumbledore had roped Snape in as the castle's first-footer; if he had, Ron wanted to know what blackmail material he'd used to convince him. Their family had never done much in the way of celebrating the new year, unless you counted Mum going mental about getting the house clean. In fact, aside from Christmas, the Weasleys didn't celebrate much at all, which was one of the reasons more “traditional” families liked to call them 'blood traitors', and why Purebloods like Malfoy looked down on how Dumbledore ran Hogwarts. To them, it was akin to treason not to observe all eight of the traditional celebrations throughout the year. Personally, it made no sense to Ron, but Seamus' mam took it very seriously, and called him home throughout the year to mark the holidays with her.

“I'm stuffed,” Ron moaned, as he finished his last mouthful of cranachan. “Think I'll head back to the dorms and sleep it off.” He was missing his mum's cooking, but the elves really were outdoing themselves in an effort to impress the other schools.

Hermione glared at him over the rim of her goblet. “Honestly, Ronald, if you didn't eat so much, you wouldn't make yourself ill.”

Harry, who had eaten almost as much as Ron, looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I think I'll come with you, Ron. I'm feeling a bit full myself.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Are you two planning on getting _any_ work done during the break?”

“No,” Ron said, shrugging. He'd barely done homework all year, what with the stress of his best mate being  _entered into a deadly tournament_ and he wasn't about to start now.

Harry muttered something about finishing a Transfiguration essay, but Ron noticed he'd avoided giving her a straight answer.

“Well, some of us do have work to do, so I'm going to the library.”

The minute she was gone, he and Harry made eye contact and started to laugh. They both knew that going to the library had very little do with homework, and neither of them had missed Viktor mysteriously finishing his meal at the exact moment Hermione had left the Hall. Ron was tempted to follow them just to see what, exactly, they were getting up to in the library, but he knew Harry wouldn't agree with spying on their best friend. Slowly, they dragged their full, sleepy bodies up the seven flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

“Oi! Harry! Over here!” George yelled as soon as they stepped inside.

“Go on, mate,” Ron muttered. “I'm going to bed.”

The dorm was empty when he got there, so he collapsed onto his bed on top of the covers and fell asleep almost immediately.

When he woke up, the fire was crackling merrily in the grate, but Harry's bed was still empty. Deciding it was best to go and find him in case he'd been used as a product tester by the twins, Ron hauled himself off of his bed... and came face-to-face with Dean.

“Hey, Dean,” he said, absently, as he headed for the door.

“Ron.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have a word?”

Dean sounded nervous, and Ron turned to face him, his brain still foggy with sleep. “Yeah?”

Dean sat down stiffly on the end of his bed and stared into the fire. “I just wanted to, ah, say sorry. Y'know. About Seamus.”

“Seamus?” Ron scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands as if it could somehow clear his brain. What on earth was Dean talking about?

“Yeah. What he said about the Yule Ball.”

_Oh. That._ Ron shrugged and turned back towards the door; he needed to find Harry. “No biggie.”

Dean reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “No, Ron, really. What he said was bang out of order and I told him so. He's just... confused.”

Ron couldn't bring himself to worry about what Seamus thought when the comments Harry had made about Katie and Alicia were still so painfully fresh in his mind. “Yeah,” he said, softly, “I know someone like that.”

Dean's hand tightened briefly on his shoulder; it felt warm and reassuring in a way that made Ron slightly uncomfortable. “You talk to yours, yet?”

Ron shook his head, feeling somewhat ashamed of himself for avoiding the topic with Harry. He knew they needed to talk, but it didn't seem fair, somehow, to add that burden to him when he had the Tournament to think about. At least, that's how Ron was justifying it to himself.

“You should.”

“How'd Seamus take it?”

Dean flinched almost imperceptibly, and his hand dropped from Ron's shoulder. “Not well,” he admitted, sinking defeatedly onto his mattress. “I think he actually asked McGonagall if he could move dorms. She told him no, but he's not spoken to me since.”

Giving up on finding Harry, Ron sat down next to him. “I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sure he'll get over himself. You two have been best mates for years.” Even as he said it, he knew it was hollow reassurance. He had the same fears about telling Harry, and Dean's experience with Seamus was only fuelling that fire. “Just give him time. He'll come around.”

Dean snorted. “You didn't see him. I've never seen him that angry.”

Ron heard Dean's breath catch on the last word, and he did the only thing he could think of – he put his arm around his shoulders.

Dean tensed for a moment, but then sighed heavily and leaned closer to rest his head on Ron's shoulder. For a moment, Ron's mind replaced Dean with Harry. They were so similar in height and build; in the half-light, it was hard to tell that Dean was a few shades more tanned, and from the angle, Ron couldn't see that his eyes were the wrong colour. And then he blinked, and it was Dean again, and Ron felt guilt curl unpleasantly in his stomach.

“When did you realise?”

It slipped out of his mouth unbidden, barely a whisper, and both boys stilled.

“Last year,” Dean said softly. “I stayed with Seamus for a couple of weeks in the summer. Impossible to spend that much time with him and not fall in love, I guess. What about you?”

“I don't know, really. I mean, this summer, I overheard...  _someone_ mention their Mark being a boy. I'd never even thought about it until then.”

“But when you heard about it, you knew you wanted that?”

“Yeah. I felt... relieved, I guess?”

Dean smiled. “Me too. Until I told Seamus, anyway.”

Ron still didn't know what had possessed him in that moment, but Dean's voice broke, and he leaned a little closer... and Ron just turned his head and pressed his lips to Dean's forehead.

Dean looked up in surprise, and suddenly his face was inches from Ron's. Ron could feel his warm breath ghosting over his lips, could see his dark lashes brushing against his tanned cheeks, could hear his own heartbeat rushing in his ears.

“Sorry, I – ”

Dean's hand came up to rest against his cheek; it was warm and slightly calloused, and he couldn't help but lean into it, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Then his own hands were moving. One came to rest against Dean's hip, his thumb slipping slightly under his t-shirt, and the other slipping back from where it had rested around his shoulder to cup the back of his neck.

And then, as Fred and George had promised, fireworks burst to life outside the dormitory window, briefly lighting Dean's features with reds and greens. His lips curled up in a soft smile, and his dark eyes met Ron's.

“Happy New Year.”

Ron wasn't sure who moved first, but they were leaning closer, closer, closer. His eyes drifted shut as the first soft brush of warm lips touched his. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it was Ron who was leaning in, using the hand on Dean's neck to tilt his head up, pressing his thin lips firmly to Dean's soft, pillowy ones.

Dean's tongue slipped out to gently press along the seam of his lips, and Ron opened his mouth to grant entry. He tasted like raspberries and honey as his tongue tentatively stroked against Ron's. Ron returned the favour, pressing his tongue into Dean's mouth and carefully tangling them together. Dean's hand moved from his cheek into his hair, his fingers twining in the ginger strands that probably felt too long to him. Ron didn't mind. As his hand cupped the back of Dean's neck, he mourned the absence of soft, messy curls.

Dean's teeth nipped at his lower lip, and he let out a soft, whimpering breath. His right hand slipped up across warm, soft skin to lay flat against Dean's back, pulling him closer as his teeth scraped against hot lips and his tongue swiped against wet skin.

It was messy and hesitant and completely lacking in finesse. The wrong people in the right place and the right time. It was perfect. It would never happen again, and that was okay.

“Happy New Year, Dean.”


End file.
